


Biotic Field

by Theoroark



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Death, Gen, Injury, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 11:56:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11943663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theoroark/pseuds/Theoroark
Summary: Or, I refuse to title this "Three times Jack didn't take care of himself and the one time he did."





	Biotic Field

“You,” Gabe said, “are a dumbass.”

Jack considered this as Gabe carried him off the battlefield. One of his eyes was swollen shut and his ears were still ringing, and so his main sense of his surroundings came from his sense of smell. He could still smell burning flesh, something that was instinctively nauseating, and burning metal, something he had learned to be disgusted by. But most of all, he could smell Gabe, sweating from the adrenaline of the battle and the strain of carrying him away from it.

“I don’t know what you were thinking,” he continued. “I had that handled. Yeah, the ROVER 15 models are tough, but you stay on the move, you’re fine. As opposed to, say, plopping yourself down and trying to mow through many tons of steel with a damn shotgun.”

“You fell,” Jack mumbled.

“Yeah, and I got back up!”

“But you weren’t running, right then. They would have targeted you.”

Gabe let out an exasperated sigh. “There was cover nearby. I would have been okay. You’re still a dumbass.” He looked down at Jack, who was gently rubbing against his chest now. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Your body armor is more comfortable than those ratty-ass things you call pajamas.”

“I could drop you, you know.”

Jack resumed his nuzzling, silently this time. Gabe rolled his eyes.

-

“Commander Morrison,” Reinhardt said. “Are you colorblind?” He was clearly attempting to keep his voice steady and friendly. Which would have been much more convincing if Jack had not heard him muttering in angry German as he approached the infirmary.

“No, Lieutenant.”

“Do you have problems perceiving light, perhaps?”

“I don’t have any problems with my vision, Lieutenant.”

“Ah. You see, I was a little confused.” Reinhardt was sounding considerably strained at this point. “Because my shield is a large, bright blue rectangle. And yet you consistently run in front of it. Not behind it.”

Jack stared at the ceiling. “My team was afraid, Lieutenant. They were holding back. I needed to lead the charge.”

“I was afraid, Commander!”

Jack had been expecting anger when Reinhardt finally broke, and there was that, but also honest fear. Reinhardt could keep his voice booming surrounded by enemies in the midst of a battle, but here his voice cracked. Jack looked over at him.

“You’re a fine leader, Commander. You don’t need to resort to ridiculous stunts. But you do need to be alive.”

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant.” Jack turned back to the ceiling. “But in this case, I have to disagree.”

He heard Reinhardt sigh and leave, and resume his angry German.

-

“What were you thinking, Jack.”

Ana had pulled him to the cockpit of the drop ship as soon as they had lifted off, digging her nails into his bicep in lieu of showing anger in front of their team. But here, she could glare at him in earnest, even if she did have to reduce her yelling to a hiss.

“I don’t know what kind of Saving Private Ryan bullshit you think this is,” she said. “But you put the dead before the living again, you’ll be fucking dead yourself. We had to give you cover while you ran back for- fucking-”

Saeed was in the cargo bay, Jack thought distantly. The two commanding officers had dumped a soldier’s corpse with his remaining squadmates and then recused themselves. There was something morbidly funny about that.

“Jack? Are you fucking listening?”

“He has kids, Ana,” he said quietly. “Wouldn’t you want- wouldn’t you want to have the option-”

He was not even sure what he was saying. He expected Ana to call him out on it, but instead she said nothing and just muffled a sob. He felt himself tear up as well.

“Cut that shit out,” she said, clearly grasping for anger. “I can hide out here, say I’m doing a mission log. You have to go back there real soon. You go back red eyed, you’ll lose anything that dumb shit won.”

“Yeah.” He took a deep breath. Took his canteen, splashed some water on his face, tried to focus on the shock of the cold. He expected Ana to make fun of him for that soap opera technique, but this time she was simply silent.

“Ana,” he said quietly. She said nothing. “His family was Jordanian, and I think they only speak Arabic.”

“Fuck.” She laughed and wiped at her eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. Now go get em, Jack.”

He checked his reflection in a piece of metal paneling, then stood to leave.

“You can’t do this again, Jack,” Ana said softly. “You can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

He waited until Ana’s sob died off before opening the door and returning to their team.

-

His mission to Watchpoint: Grand Mesa had been a success, miraculously. And in another small miracle, he had only had to injure people, not kill. And so considering all that luck, he did not really feel like he could complain that he was one of the ones injured.

He had held his broken ribs as he hid in the woods, waiting for the searchlights to fade away. Then he stood up and slowly, laboriously, made his way to the Blackwatch safehouse he knew was nearby.

Gabe would have made fun of him, he thought, as he opened the door to the dusty cabin. He had told him it was unnecessary to stick one so close to a Watchpoint, it would never get used. Gabe would have held him to that. Would hold him to that. Wherever he was.

He must still be out there.

He did not want to turn on the lights- Helix would still be searching the area. So he turned on his tactical visor, instead. A flock of moths and a mouse lit up, as well as the faint AI light from the comms unit. He turned to the unilluminated parts of the cabin, and found the first aid locker.

There were some bottles of a dark blue jelly, and a couple of syringes. He stared at them, then at his arm, trying to find a vein. He really should have paid more attention during those enhancement program procedures.

There was a note in the locker that he hadn’t noticed before, next to a thin metal cylinder. He picked them up and read the note.

_McCree-_

_The canister is a biotic field. Should take care of any injuries you got this mission. If it doesn’t, call me. Don’t touch the syringe, you’ll put your eye out._

_Cdr. Reyes_

Jack activated the biotic field, then turned off his visor. He stared at the note in the golden nanobot light as it sewed up his ribs. The slant of the letters felt so familiar and he wanted so badly to take it with him, but he was also very aware that it was not his to take.

He tried to commit the note to memory instead, to cast every loop and line in amber. Then he put it back in the locker and stood up. He took the biotic field with him when he left. It did not make sense to be so careless anymore. He had nothing left to lose.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm @tacticalgrandma on tumblr if you want to talk there.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading this, and any comments or kudos would mean the world to me!


End file.
